Chapter 25
twenty-five
FINN
I ’m back in Anchorage with Harper. There are only a handful of maternity clothing stores in Alaska, and we’re at one of them.
Her stomach is only a little bigger, but she mentioned that the waists of her dress pants are getting snug and uncomfortable, so I suggested we go see if she could find something she’d be more comfortable in.
Shopping is far from my favorite thing to do, but that’s beside the point.
Harper needs something to wear throughout this pregnancy, and when I take a look at the first price tag on a sweater when we get into the store, I can see that this will cost a small fortune.
She’ll only be wearing these clothes for a few months.
“I want to pay for half of whatever we get here today.”
She whips her head around from a dark green dress she’s looking at on the rack. She wears green a lot—probably since it looks good on her. “I don’t need you to buy my clothes, Finn.”
“I know. But why should you have to pay for a whole new wardrobe? I can chip in. I want to.”
She studies me, shrugs, then says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.”
Harper works her way through the store and picks out a few things. The saleswoman comes over and takes the clothes from her to start a changing room. Once Harper is satisfied that she’s grabbed everything she’s interested in, she turns to me.
“Come see what they look like on. I want your opinion.”
“I’m not sure I’m the one to ask for fashion advice.” I look down at my jeans, Henley, and light jacket.
She sets her hand on my chest and rolls her eyes. “You always look good, Finn.” She shakes her head at me before walking to the back of the store.
I follow. The sales lady is waiting and directs Harper to the room with the clothes she picked out. Then she hands Harper a circular pillow.
“What’s this?” Harper inspects it and looks at me as if I’d have any clue.
The sales lady says, “You strap that around your waist so that you can see what the clothing will look like when you’re further along in your pregnancy.”
“Oh, fun.” Harper takes it into the dressing room with her, closing the door.
I sit in the chair outside the room, and a few minutes later, Harper comes out wearing a pair of dress pants and a black sweater.
I do a double blink when I see the size of her belly.
I know it’s not our child that’s made her stomach look swollen, but seeing her like this… my dick perks up and takes notice.
I think I have a pregnancy kink.
No. I have a Harper-pregnant-with-my-baby kink.
“You look great. I mean, the outfit looks great. How do you feel?”
“I think it will work.” Harper rests her hands on her fake belly.
I swear to God, I already know I’m jerking off to thoughts of her rubbing her protruding belly later tonight.
Definitely a pregnancy kink.
I clear my throat. “Awesome.”
Harper’s head tilts, and she looks at me for a beat before going back into the changing room.
She continues in and out of the dressing room for three more outfits, and each one is hotter than the last. Every time she walks out of that doorway, I have to inhale deeply and try to think of something terrible—like some of the fire scenes I’ve been on—so that I don’t sport wood.
She takes a while on the next outfit. When she doesn’t come out after a few minutes, I ask if everything is okay.
Her head pokes out around the changing room door. “Can you zip this up for me?”
“Sure.” I get up off the chair and join her inside the changing room, closing the door behind me.
Harper stands in front of the mirror, holding up her hair. The dress she has on gapes open, revealing her bare back.
I remember pressing my lips there the night we were together and running my tongue up her spine. When our gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror, I know she’s remembering the same thing I am.
Our eyes remain on each other as I take the zipper in my fingers, slowly pulling it up. My knuckles drag against her heated skin as I work the zipper, and Harper’s breath catches. A cascade of goose bumps races over her skin and a groan slips from my lips.
A sharp intake of breath sounds from her as our eyes meet in the mirror again.
I’m overwhelmed by her. Her beauty, her floral scent, her long, shiny deep red locks—the strands wound through her fingers where she holds it above her head—her energy, all of it.
Before I can think better of it, I lower my mouth to the curve of her neck. Rather than push me away, she exhales, eyes drifting closed, and leans back into me.
God, all I want right now is to worship this woman. Bring her pleasure. See her come.
My tongue traces a line up to her ear, and Harper whips around.
I wait for her to push me away, tell me all the reasons why we can’t do this.
But she grabs my shirt and pulls me forward, her lips crashing to mine.
I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue.
She opens for me, and I get my first taste of her since the last time we kissed, which was way too long ago.
My dick is hard as stone between us, and when I jut my hips forward, I’m met with the softness of the fake belly. Wanting to feel her, I reach under her dress from behind until I feel the strap. The Velcro coming apart sounds like a needle scratch in the small space, but it doesn’t deter us.
Harper’s hands are in my hair, and when she yanks on it, I toss the belly to the floor and spin her around, backing her up so her back is against the wall, and she’s facing the mirror behind me.
I continue kissing her and slide my hand down and up under her dress until my fingers rest at the edge of her panties.
“Can you be quiet?” I whisper before sucking her earlobe.
She bites her bottom lip and nods.
“Watch yourself come in the mirror. I’ve been dying to see you come since you left my hotel room the morning after.”
My lips meet hers again as I slide my hand past the elastic of her underwear. My fingers crest over her mound and delve between her legs. She’s already wet for me, and I bite back a moan.
I tease her, gently running my fingers from her entrance to her clit over and over again. Harper bites my bottom lip to hold herself back from moaning. Her hands fist my shirt as I tease her entrance with my middle finger, never giving her what she wants.
She pulls away from the kiss and pleads with her eyes to put her out of her misery, and it’s my undoing. I push my middle and ring finger into her, using the heel of my hand to provide pressure on her clit.
In seconds, she covers her mouth with her hand to keep herself from making a sound. Her attention goes from my face to the mirror behind me, and a small moan does sound in her throat.
I rock my hand back and forth, my fingers soaked with her arousal, and I step to the side and turn my head so I can watch in the mirror.
Fuck. We look good. Harper’s back is arched while she grinds her hips, so, so needy. My large body beside her, my hand between her legs, both of us fully clothed.
When I increase the pressure and the pace, Harper’s eyes squeeze shut, and she wraps her other hand over the one already on her mouth, her hips bucking against my hand.
Her body stiffens, and she jerks her hips again.
Once. Twice. Then her body is like Jell-O.
She’s soft and pliant, and I know the only thing keeping her upright is my hand between her legs.
She lets her hands drop from her face and the back of her head hits the wall with a thud, eyes still closed.
I pull my hand from between her legs. I’m about to suck her juices off each and every one of my fingers, but a knock sounds at the door.
Harper’s eyes whip open in alarm, and her body goes rigid—so opposite of the relaxed and sated woman from moments ago. “Yes?” she croaks.
“How’s it going in there? Do you need help with anything?” the sales lady asks.
“No, I’m good, thanks. Just finishing up.” Harper widens her eyes at me.
“All right, just wanted to check on you because you’ve been in there awhile, and I don’t see your partner here anymore.”
“All good! He was just unzipping the dress for me,” Harper says, sounding anything but natural.
I have to work to keep my laugh inside while Harper gives me a stern look.
As soon as it seems the woman is gone, she turns her back to me and whispers, “Can you unzip me?”
I do so quickly, and she turns back around, silently shooing me out of the changing room.
I sit in the chair and think about what just went down. How much I enjoyed it. How much she enjoyed it. How it feels as though we’ve been dancing around the inevitable for weeks and weeks.
Maybe there could be something between us.
If anything, living with Harper since I came to Lake Starlight has proven that we can get along and that we enjoy spending time together.
We’re definitely attracted to each other and not at a loss for sexual chemistry.
What if we could be something, could be a couple, a real family? Wouldn’t that be best for our baby?
Suddenly, images of the two of us play through my mind—us pushing our baby on a swing in the park, Christmas Eve tucking in an excited toddler and reading them a bedtime story, Harper bringing our child to the fire station and me showing him or her around.
Before when I used to think of the two of us together, I was scared and unsure. Now, it just feels right. And I think it’s about time I tell her I want more than the coparenting thing we agreed on.
When Harper comes out of the dressing room, I open my mouth to address what just happened and what it might mean, but she speaks before I can.
“Thanks for the great orgasm, but that can’t happen again,” she says under her breath.
I blink several times. Every part of me wants to argue with her and tell her she’s wrong, but there’s a look of steely determination in her eyes. Determination and… fear. So, I nod. “Okay.”
Disappointment soaks in like lotion on my skin, coating me from head to toe.
She nods and walks out, clothes in hand, without giving me a backward glance.
The problem is that every time I blink, the expression on her face when she came is all I can see, and it will haunt me forever if I never see it again.